


You're Holding Back

by CobaltPhosphene



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, John being John, Manipulation, Mary May and Joey Hudson show up in the background too, cult content, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltPhosphene/pseuds/CobaltPhosphene
Summary: John tries to orchestrate a "chance" meeting to talk to that strange Deputy who chose to walk away. Walked away, from beginning the Reaping, from opening the first seal, stood staring glassy-eyed at Joseph and the rest of the family behind the Father, waiting and waiting and waiting unmoving until the Sheriff called it off. He'd seen the relief on the Deputy's face for a split second before the man had closed his expression off, turning to leave. But John had also seen something else...and he wasn't sure what.It might have been terror. Terror on a scale that made no sense, even if one was afraid of the Project and all it could do...which the Deputy shouldn't know about. The Project had been too careful for that.So John goes to the Spread Eagle under false pretenses, to stir up an incident or two to try to get a better look at the contents of this junior deputy's soul—to see what's inside this deputy's head. Just what, exactly, makes this man tick.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	You're Holding Back

“You’re holding back, Deputy.” John observed, his steps slow and methodical as he circled around from behind the other man where he stood.  
  
Not even a twitch. Not a look, a breath, or a word.  
  
Just silence. Silence broken by the pitiful little groans of pain from the crumpled heaps of booze-soaked trouble-makers surrounding the Deputy’s feet. Not even a broken bone among them, pff. _Weak,_ as Jacob would so aptly call them. Foolish too, as John would term it. Too eager to vent their spleen and their _wrath_ on any easy target—easy to target because it wasn’t mentally challenging to pick out who wasn’t a regular alcoholic here at the Spread Eagle, that was. The thought almost had John smirking. Almost. Had the drunken sops actually gotten to the point of swinging, well…it would’ve benefited the Project for John to take a punch for the team if only to be able to start the chain of actions to staple a battery charge on the lot. Then it was just a matter of slowly picking them apart until they were handing over the keys and deeds to their houses and lands to get out of the growing mountain of scandal and misfortune that would follow them from that point onward. Too foolish to step out of the noose they’d made, and too foolish to realize they’d woven the rope and tied it themselves—like shooting fish in a barrel.  
  
That was if he took a punch. They didn’t need trash like this in the Project, and their lands weren’t anything important. These souls were small fry, unworthy and uninteresting. Poor fighters, too. John had already known he could take them— ** _and break them_** —in a fight.  
  
They hadn’t known that though. They’d assumed because he was some “fancy shmancy ass lawyer,” that he didn’t know how to raise a fist and fight. That he didn’t know _**pain.**_  
  
Oh, but did he know pain in far more intimate and detailed ways that they didn’t— _ **and he could show it to them,—**_ but no. They weren’t worthy of that revelation, that understanding of the power of _**YES.  
  
**_ But Deputy Rook?  
  
Deputy _Declan_ Rook.  
  
Deputy _XiuYing_ Declan Rook.  
  
 _That_ was a soul who could understand. The silence surrounding him was too heavy with knowing, with _something_ , with **_promise_ ,** to go unremarked on.  
  
The Deputy had kept his silence in the church too, then, on that fateful night.  
  
He’d _listened_ to Joseph, strangely enough.  
  
Or. Joseph said the Deputy had.  
  
John disagreed. Jacob disagreed.  
  
There had been something in the Deputy’s face…that had been so very far away.  
  
The feeling of a soul that is disassociated from its surroundings and the going-ons of the moment.  
  
They all knew that feeling well.  
  
Joseph had dismissed it.  
  
But John? John couldn’t let well enough alone.  
  
That was why he was here now, slinking about the Spread Eagle on a Saturday night. He’d had good intel from his people about town that the Deputy had made an appearance at the bar, god forsaken well of poison that it was.  
  
That meant dealing with Mary May Fairgrave, however. As much fun as it was to rile her up, that was unfortunately an animosity he’d have to take a rain check on for another time. A crisp twenty dollar bill was enough to buy a few minutes of tolerance from her, when accompanied with a smile and a promise from John that he wasn’t here to cause trouble, simply to check on an acquaintance of his, and then he’d be out of her hair. That was a lie…but a good enough one that no one would hold him to it without looking unreasonable and biased. Not that being unreasonable and biased was unusual in this particular venue, sadly, but that was a well known, common effect of alcohol. One the two of them were both aware of. Mary May had scoffed, warned him not to linger longer than he had to, but had pocketed the cash. They’d done this before—and she knew well enough that he wasn’t interested in being served a beer for his money. She’d consider that a victory, a few worthless dollars taken from Eden’s Gate and in her pocket instead. Typical greed.  
  
His on-going issues with Mary May not withstanding…John had not come in under the paper-thin guise of intending to drink. No, he’d had a much more reasonable excuse of seeking out another potential member-to-be, who had not officially joined the Project yet. All the man had to do was play a part: drinking away his woes, his depression, his awareness in its entirety—a common enough ailment with a common enough response: poison them into submission until they thanked you for it, **_paid_** for it as a privilege. No one would question it.  
  
And no one would question John coming in to apparently try to reel the so-called “vulnerable” man in, hook, line, and sinker. All the sinners saw was the fact that the man had _money, land,_ _**wealth**_ **.** That was all they saw. That was all they assumed John saw too. Assumed that was what **_he_** was after, trying to “coax” the man further into joining the Project At Eden’s Gate.  
  
That of course had been more than enough to stir the ire of some of the locals. And with an off-duty Deputy on the scene? John had harbored no doubts it would lead to an opportunity to talk. Talk to this Deputy who had walked away…instead of breaking the first seal. Instead of heralding the Collapse.  
  
Joseph had been expecting the Collapse. Had been expecting the sinners to try to take him, the way that barking Marshal had.  
  
But the Deputy had refused.  
  
 _ **How interesting**_ **.**  
  
Even more interesting was how swift the Deputy’s response had been, interposing himself between John and the rabble-rousers as quickly and naturally as falling rain. John had found himself staring at the back of the other man’s head, black hair trimmed close and neat, his silhouette a stark-edged shadow of a man imposing and broad shouldered, wrapped in a thin, grey cotton tee and denim blue jeans. It’d made him seem so strangely _ordinary,_ like he was blending in when he should have been standing out, should have registered as a _**threat**_ **.**  
  
Because he _was_ a threat, no doubt about that.  
  
The drunkards had completely missed it. Unsurprising, the buffoons. They’d been startled, and then predictably mad, redirecting their anger to the obstacle that stood in the way of them indulging in their sins.  
  
It’d been the first time John had heard the Deputy _speak_.  
  
“Stand down.” Two words, quiet enough to be missed if the bar had been noisy at the time.  
  
Quiet…but not meek. Not _**weak.**_ It was the quiet of _knowing._ **Knowing** just what one’s own self was capable of. The lack of fear that came with power…and clarity.  
  
The Deputy had found some revelation of his own at some point then, John was certain.  
  
The sinners obviously had not stood down, and had, predictably, taken the first swing at Deputy Rook, as John had expected of them, based on what he’d known of their character.  
  
He had not expected Deputy Rook to put all three men down with such _**quick**_ and _ **clean**_ efficiency. No wounding or serious injury, just enough force to subdue, just enough pain to quiet.  
  
Beautiful. That had been a beautiful display of skill. Of _**violence**_ , so pinpoint and precise, it’d been almost gentle. The Deputy had been moving so smoothly and gracefully, he’d almost seemed to slow down, moving just fast enough to anticipate the men flailing around him like they were extras in a slapstick comedy.  
  
It’d been too easy. Too smooth. Too _**pretty.  
  
**_ The Deputy wasn’t even challenged by this.  
  
He was holding back.  
  
That interested John _**immensely.**_  
  
The Deputy’s head turned, just enough to catch John in his peripheral vision as John circled to one side. The moment was long, before the tension was snipped as easily as the Fates cutting a thread, and the Deputy looked away towards where Mary May was moving towards them with a scowl half a mile long. The Deputy pointed to the phone, and Mary May stopped, her glower fading somewhat as understanding trickled in. She gave a sharp nod, unhappy about all this not because of the brawl, but because it involved _John Seed_ as all present company could tell from the dirty look she shot him before she turned to call the Sheriff’s Department.  
  
“Deputy.”  
  
The Deputy didn’t look at John, only barely moving his head again to draw John back into the periphery of his gaze, never looking at him directly, head canting a tiny bit to one side as if listening, as if to say _go ahead, I’m listening._

There was a faint trace of wariness in the Deputy’s expression.  
  
He still wouldn’t look at John.  
  
That rankled most of all, and piqued John’s curiosity in equal measures.  
  
 _Why?_ Why was the Deputy acting like this? What reason did he have for these little eccentricities? Eccentricities that heretofore, had never been remarked upon? The odd stretches of silence in place of words, the select self-expression through subdued gestures and looks alone…the choices made, both then and now.  
  
John had to try something. “Declan.”  
  
 _That_ got the Deputy’s attention, enough for that pair of dark brown eyes almost darkened to black in how the light fell.  
  
John smiled, a little victory well worth the cost of this trip into a den of inequity. Nothing substantial, yet. But a foot in the door was all he needed.  
  
“Thank you for your services, Deputy, though if I might ask…why did you step in so quickly? Nothing had happened yet, and it is your night off, isn’t it?”  
  
The Deputy looked at John for a long, long, _long_ moment…before tilting his head another inch to one side.  
  
It was vaguely infuriating in that the Deputy was clearly communicating _something_ but John wasn’t familiar enough with the man to know _what_. An emotional state of being, and some form of sentiment, yes, not an indication regarding their surroundings or to draw John’s attention to some other event starting up around them.  
  
Why was he so _quiet?_ The word from the grapevine had given no previous indication he’d been anything but an ordinary man in the day to day portraiture of his character according to John’s sources.  
  
John could hear the crunch and crackle of dirt under car tires outside—backup likely. What a short window of time that had been, the other Deputy must have been nearby when the call went out to dispatch then.  
  
He had time for one more question then. “Why didn’t you simply walk away? Just sent out a call and let your colleague pick up the job.”  
  
John already knew, it was why he’d staged this entire self-contained mess. Deputy Declan Rook was a man of duty, that much Nancy had been sure of.  
  
What he _was_ asking, _**really**_ asking, was why Deputy Declan had walked away, through the allusion of word choice buried in a seemingly innocent question.  
  
He could tell that the Deputy got it. That the other man _understood_ , just by the minute shift in his expression as he looked at John.  
  
But still the Deputy said nothing.  
  
“Rook, you alright? Mary May called up and said you’d been in a bar fight,” Deputy Hudson said, the sound of her footsteps filling the silence in place of any answer Deputy Rook might have given.  
  
“Or rather ended one, from the looks of things,” She concluded, eying the pile of groaning men upon the floor.  
  
The Deputy’s attention was on Hudson now, shaking his head and giving her a little reassuring smile, as if to say _no injuries, I’m fine, as are they, just a little banged up._  
  
How disappointing, and how strange.  
  
But the little furrow of Hudson’s brow in addition to the slight frown upon her face when she looked at Deputy Rook was more promising.

This was relatively _new_ behavior to her as well then, not just Deputy Rook choosing to be oddly silent in the moment. She didn’t understand why the Deputy was behaving so oddly either.  
  
She most certainly was not happy upon laying eyes on John himself though. He plastered on yet another smile, knowing exactly how this conversation was going to go down, her taking a statement, and the whole matter dwindling down as to yet another weekend dust-up to write up and add to the paperwork at the Sheriff’s Department.  
  
But Deputy Rook was hiding something. Holding back, as he had in the fight earlier. Holding back even as he was now with Deputy Hudson as they sorted out the aftermath of the fight.  
  
It left John with more questions than he’d started. But he had gotten a few new answers among it all.  
  
How _**interesting.**_

**Author's Note:**

> Written from an ask game prompt sent by Chyrstis on tumblr. Set in a Walk Away AU, based off of the secret ending at the beginning of the game. "You’re holding back" and John as a prompt from Chyrstis! :D Thank you for the prompt Chyrstis!! :D ♥


End file.
